Beyond Reach

by Melody Carlson

  “Right. In the meantime, we pray.”

  By morning I feel like I've barely slept. And it would be easy to feel really nervous. Instead I pray. And I'm thankful I didn't have any new dreams. Maybe that means so far, so good.

  On the way to school, I call Ebony and leave a message on her voice mail. “I am 99 percent sure that the suicide guy is Garrett. Olivia and I are going to try to talk to him ASAP, but I'm not sure what to do if he doesn't listen. Anyway, I'll be in touch.”

  Then we're at school, but we don't see Garrett anywhere. We ask Alex and Conrad, and they haven't seen him either, but then that's not so unusual. It's not like Garrett goes around trying to be seen by everyone.

  “I have geometry with him,” says Alex, “in second period.”

  “Great,” I say. Tell him we need to talk to him. It's urgent.”

  “Yeah,” adds Olivia. “It's about the Sweethearts Ball. We have a real disaster on our hands.”

  Alex buys this and promises to give him the message. But Olivia and I decide to take it a step further and agree to meet at the math department after second period. That way we can talk to him sooner,” I say. “In case he gets suspicious after Alex tells him about our ‘disaster.’“

  “Sorry,” says Olivia. “I couldn't think of anything else.”

  It's okay. And, in a way, it's true. If Garrett goes through with this, you won't have a date.”

  She winces. “See ya after second.”

  But when we find Alex by the entrance of the math department later, he informs us that Garrett is absent today.

  Oh, no. “I turn to Olivia.

  “Just what kind of decorating disaster is it anyway?” asks Alex. “Maybe I can help.”

  “No, that's okay.” I grab Olivia by the arm. “Can you drive?”

  And then we're on our way to Garrett's house. I'm calling him as she drives, but no one is answering. “He might be there,” I say. “Maybe he's just not picking up.”

  But when we arrive and beat on the door, there is no answer. We try the side door. Still no answer.

  “We need to go to the bridge,” I say as we run back to her car. “And I'm calling Ebony.”

  As Olivia speeds to the bridge, I can't help but notice that the sky is clear and blue. Just like in the vision, which I assumed was later in the day. Why did I assume it was afternoon? It could be morning just as easily.

  I get Ebony's voice mail again and leave another message, explaining what we're doing, what I think is going on, and where we're headed.

  It seems to take forever to reach the bridge, and then we don't know where to park. It's a railway bridge with no direct access unless you're a train. Finally, we park near the boat ramp and start walking toward the bridge.

  I don't see anyone around, and there's no car, but then I remember that Garrett doesn't have a car. Doesn't even have access to one. Gay Guy couldn't use carbon monoxide poisoning since his dad kept the pickup keys from him. My guess is he walked here—it would take a couple of hours from his house.

  “Look,” Olivia says in a hushed tone and grabs my arm, pointing to the bridge. And that's when I see him, exactly like my vision, walking slowly, shakily, as if he's very, very scared.

  “Garrett,” I whisper. “Please come down.” Of course, he can't hear me. He's too far away.

  “What do we do?” asks Olivia.

  “Here.” I hand her my cell phone. “Call Ebony. Hit number one on my speed dial. Tell her that he's up there right now and that I'm going up too. Hopefully no trains are coming anytime soon.”

  “Oh, Sam.”

  “And pray.”

  Then I scramble up the side of the graveled hill. I try to be quiet, but I'm afraid the rocks slipping beneath my feet might give me away. Hopefully the sound of the fast-moving river will cover for me. Below the bridge is a mix of rapids and large stones. The water is so shallow that if a person did survive the jump, he would probably be crippled for life.

  Soon I'm on top of the bridge, trying to convince myself that heights don't bother me or that this isn't dangerous. Now I'm walking across the bridge, taking one tie at a time, trying to get into a pace, a rhythm, and trying not to look down where I can glimpse white water and stones between the ties. I think the ties are far enough apart that a person could fall through, although perhaps if you spread your arms, it might keep you from going all the way down. But who can be sure?

  My plan is to get close enough to Garrett so we can talk. Somehow I have to get him to trust me, to listen, and to see that this isn't the answer—that there is hope. Most of all, I don't want to scare him. I know that he, like me, is afraid of heights and one quick move… Well, I can't think about that now.

  He has stopped walking and is now just standing with his legs straddled, one on each tie, like he's frozen. Maybe scared stiff. I quietly continue toward him, silently begging God to help me, to help us. Finally I'm only about four ties away, and I can't believe he hasn't looked back. He's still frozen, and I have to admit I feel like freezing too. I feel like crying for help. Instead, I take in a steadying breath and quietly say his name.

  Of course, this makes him jump, which makes me jump. My heart is pounding like crazy, but I try to remain calm. “It's just me. Sam,” I say in an even voice. I'm close enough to see that his legs are really shaking. It's going to be okay, Garrett.”

  He just stands there with his back to me, like he really can't move. And yet he's moving all over. He's shaking so hard that I think he might vibrate himself right off the bridge. Like there may be no way to help him. Then it occurs to me—what if a train came right now? Would it even have time to stop? Don't think about that!

  “Garrett,” I say as calmly as I can muster, although I can hear the tremble in my voice. “Is it okay if I walk up closer to you? I'm, uh, I'm kind of scared right now.”

  I think he says okay, and so I proceed—with caution. Extreme caution, and I think I might be shaking as much as he is. I reach the place where I'm parallel with him, and then I go ahead and walk right past him, just a couple of ties ahead since I think he might need his space. Or maybe I'm afraid he might grab me and we both might go down.

  I attempt to steady myself as I try to think of something to say. “Nice day.” Okay, it's lame but the best I can do under the circumstances.

  He doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at me, but his face is so white that it seems all the blood has drained out. Perhaps he is dead already.

  “Want to sit down?” I carefully squat and then sit, which actually feels a little safer. I let out a sigh. “Much better.”

  But he's still standing, one leg out in front of the other and both legs still shaking like reeds blowing in the wind.

  “This is a pretty scary place. Especially if you're afraid of heights.”

  His eyes narrow slightly, but he still doesn't look at me.

  “Why don't you sit down, Garrett. Give your legs a rest.”

  “I can't,” he mutters his eyes still looking down.

  Now I stand back up. “Do you want me to help?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Can I walk toward you?”

  He doesn't say anything, but something about his expression makes me think this might be okay. I pray it's okay. The last thing we need is to panic. I slowly move along the ties until I am standing next to him. “Now I'm going to sit down,” I say as if I am talking to a little kid. “Right here. And then I'll reach for your hand, and you can sit down too. Okay?”

  He doesn't answer, but after I sit and reach for his hand, he takes it. His hand is clammy and cold, and after what seems like an hour, he finally sits down and heaves a huge sigh.

  “Isn't that better?”

  His head is bent down and he's still not talking.

  “Garrett, I know that you're gay. And I know your dad is abusive. And I know you want to give up.”

  He turns and finally looks at me. “How do you know that?”

  “The suicide website. I'm Grace. Olivia is
Hope.”

  He seems genuinely surprised by this but only says, “Oh.”

  “We're your friends, Garrett. We want to help you. I didn't actually figure out that you were Gay Guy until just last night. I mean, I had my suspicions, but when I read that post about the dance, I knew it had to be you.”

  He barely nods.

  “But this isn't the answer.”

  “There are no answers.”

  “Yes,” I tell him, “there are. God has an answer for everything.”

  “I thought God hated homosexuals.”

  “God loves everyone. “

  “That's not what I heard.”

  “Well, do you believe everything you hear? Do you believe your dad when he says the kind of crud he says to you? Does he really know what he's talking about?”

  He shrugs.

  “The truth is, God does love you, Garrett. I know this for a fact.”

  “A fact?” his voice is dripping in skepticism. “A fact requires proof, Sam. Don't forget that I'm the scientific one here.”

  “I know it for a fact because I have faith.”

  It gets quiet now, and I hope that he's considering this.

  “How did you find me here anyway?” he suddenly asks. “I never mentioned this place on the website or to anyone.”

  I point a finger at him. “See, that in itself is proof.”

  “How?”

  “Because God showed me where you were.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I swear it's the truth, Garrett. God really did show me.”

  He gives me a look like he thinks I'm even crazier than he is.

  “God has shown me all kinds of things about you.”

  “Like what?”

  So I actually go into the details of the many and varied suicide visions I've had just recently. “I'm not sure if you actually tried any of these methods, or if you were simply considering them. But God knows our thoughts, Garrett. And for some reason, God tuned me into yours. I believe He did that because God really, really loves you and wants to save you from this.”

  Then I tell him about how I felt lost when my dad died. “I needed a father badly, and I discovered that God wanted to be that to me. He's my heavenly Father, and I can honestly say that I wouldn't want to live without Him. I'm pretty sure that's why you don't want to live now. You're doing it on your own, Garrett. Without God. Without your heavenly Father.” I don't add that it doesn't help much that his earthly father is being such a jerk.

  Garrett gets so quiet that I'm not sure whether he even heard me or not. But then I see something wet glistening on his cheeks. He's crying.

  “We have to get down from here.”

  “I'm afraid, Sam.”

  “It's okay,” I tell him as I stand. “I'm afraid too. But we can help each other. Just trust me, okay?”

  It takes a few minutes and lots of coaxing, but he finally stands up again. Then, holding hands, we take the ties one at a time and, ever so slowly, make our way back to terra firma, which I want to kiss but don't. Then I throw my arms around Garrett and give him a big hug. “It's going to be okay. You're going to get past this.” He's still shaking, but at least he doesn't resist. In some ways he seems beaten, and I have a feeling he thinks he's failed again. But at least he's alive. Now he has a second chance.

  As we go down the graveled slope toward the park, I notice Ebony's car parked next to Olivia's, and the two of them are standing together. Not far off is a marked patrol car as well as a paramedic unit. I guess they were getting ready for anything. I'm glad they didn't use sirens or anything.

  “That's Ebony Hamilton,” I explain as we get closer. “She's a good friend of mine, and she's also a cop.”

  He bristles slightly at this.

  “You're going to have to trust me on this. And her. We want to help you. Okay?”

  His eyes narrow. “How?”

  “For starters, you need a new place to live. I'm pretty sure Ebony will agree. Your dad is abusive and cruel. And that's wrong.”

  He nods ever so slightly, but his head is hanging low. I suspect he's ashamed, although that seems absurd.

  “Things are going to change for you, Garrett. But you need to accept some help, okay? Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Then I introduce him to Ebony, and she talks to him for a few minutes, asking him spme questions, which I assume are to establish that he's currently not a threat to himself or anyone else. Then she points to the patrol car. “Normally, you would be transported in that, but if Samantha's willing to join us, you can ride with me to the station.”

  That's fine,” Iteli her.

  Then Olivia comes over and gives Garrett a big hug. “I'm so glad you're okay. I thought I'd lost my date to the Sweethearts Ball.”

  “So that's what this is about,” he says, displaying enough humor to give me hope. “Man, you are one desperate chick, Olivia Marsh.”

  She just laughs then says she'll meet us at city hall. Garrett and I get into the back of Ebony's car, and she drives to the station, where I'm sure he'll be questioned some more. Olivia pulls up as we're getting out of Ebony's car. We all go inside, and Olivia and I talk to Garrett for a while. Then Ebony returns, thanks us for our help, then says that she needs to get a statement from him.

  We both hug Garrett before we leave. “I'm so glad you're getting help,” I tell him. “It's going to be okay now. It's going to get better. You'll see.”

  He still looks doubtful, but not nearly as scared as he was on that bridge. He tells us good-bye and then even adds, Thanks.”

  “See ya later, Garrett.” Olivia pats him on the back.

  He looks skeptical. “Yeah, see ya.”

  “Count on it,” I tell him.

  “Did Ebony tell you that a train was scheduled to go through there while you guys were on the bridge?” Olivia asks when we get into her car.

  “No, are you serious?”

  “Yes. Ebony called the railroad and told them to delay the train until you guys got safely down.”

  “Wow.” I try not to imagine what might've happened up there today. “Let's pray for Garrett,” I suggest. And so we do.

  On Saturday night, the night of the Sweethearts Ball, Conrad and I double-date with Olivia and Garrett. We've already spent about five hours getting all the decorations up, with barely enough time to go home and change. I went ahead and told Conrad a little bit about Garrett, not all the details, but just enough to make him understand how important it is for us to stick by Garrett, especially now.

  Garrett's in a foster care situation, which he says is “a Christian home, but sort of okay,” plus he's getting counseling regarding his sexual orientation, which he seems a little unsure about. In fact, it almost seems that it was more the result of his dad's bullying than anything else. But I am not pressing him on the subject. I'm just glad that he's still here and still talking to us.

  He's been back at school the past couple of days, and although I can tell he has still got some obstacles to face, he's certainly turned a corner. Olivia and I both are convinced of this. It's like he's a different guy now, like some heavy load has been lifted off his shoulders.

  Just today, as we put up decorations, he was joking and cutting up more than ever. He thinks it's a hoot that Science Geek is taking Rocker Chick to the Sweethearts Ball. And Olivia has done a great job putting their outfits together. They look totally retro and fun.

  All in all, it's a great night. Olivia and the Stewed Oysters are a bigger hit than the main band, and Olivia is fantastic. Of course, Jack still looks like he's got an ax to grind with her, but Olivia just takes it in stride.

  I'm sure this new side of her surprises a lot of people. Alex is particularly impressed, and I have a feeling he's going to be hitting on that girl again. Although she politely reserves most of her attention when not singing for Garrett, who turns out to be quite an adept dancer and rather charming.

  Conrad and I have fun together too. And I love h
ow he really treats Garrett like a friend. It probably makes me respect him even more than ever.

  But seriously, the highlight of the evening for me is when I dance with Garrett. The dance is nearly over and we're all tired and happy. And I, for one, am ready to call it a night. The dance is just ending when Garrett starts to speak.

  “Sam…” He looks at me, then looks away. “I don't even know how to thank you…you know, for everything.”

  I smile at him. “Don't thank me, Garrett. Thank God!”

  “Yeah, I think I might be sort of moving in that direction.”

  I blink in surprise. “Seriously?”

  “I can't make any promises, but I'm looking into it. Like any good scientist, I have to examine all the evidence.”

  That's great, Garrett.”

  “Anyway, thanks for everything you've done for me, Sam. Thanks for caring. And thanks for accepting me, you know, just the way I am.” He shrugs. “You know, whatever that turns out to be.”

  Then I stretch up and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you, Garrett. You know in a brother-sister kind of way. But I really do love you just the way you are. Just the way God loves us.”

  He nods. “Thanks.”

  And as we finish the dance and go back to join our friends, I feel totally amazed. And I realize that only God can make me feel like this. And I thank Him!

  My eyes sting from the heat. I blink and rub at them, trying to see what's in front of me, but there's so much smoke I feel blind. And there's a nasty acrid smell that burns in my throat as I attempt to breathe. It smells like something that I shouldn't be inhaling. I try to hold my breath as I stumble along. I know that I need to get out of here—fast! But then I trip over a wooden crate, falling smack down onto what feels like a filthy cement floor. It's sticky and grimy with, I'm guessing, years’ worth of crud ingrained into the surface.

  Despite the filth I think maybe I'm safer down here. I recall a fireman, back when I was little, telling our class that the smoke isn't as bad if you stay low. So I continue searching for my exit, crawling on my hands and knees. The air has gotten so thick that it feels like I'm fighting my way through a heavy curtain of murky darkness.